


Flat Champagne and Apple Pie

by orphan_account



Series: Castiel Writing Challenge [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birthday Fluff, Engaged Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 03:19:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5811700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This year the company gala happens to be the same night as Dean's birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flat Champagne and Apple Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Castiel Writing Challenge](http://castielwritingchallenge.tumblr.com) January 2016 "wintery holiday"-themed prompt "champagne." 
> 
> So I put this off long enough to make it in time for Dean's birthday! Happy 37th birthday to Dean Winchester, our amazing, lovable ~~bisexual~~ hunter ♥

Castiel sips at his flute of champagne, surveying the room from his place away from all his coworkers. They all mingle in the center of the ballroom of the hotel, laughing and smiling. Waiters float between them, carrying trays of finger foods and more champagne; it’s a good year, bubbly and smooth on his tongue.

Castiel has never liked champagne.

“Hey, you,” a warm voice says, and Castiel jumps slightly at the arm sliding around his waist. He smiles when he realizes it’s Dean, and leans into his fiancé.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hiding out in the dark isn’t usually your style,” Dean points out with a smirk; he brings his own flute up and chugs half of it in one go. He smacks his lips together and grimaces. “Wow, and people actually drink that stuff because they _like_ it, ugh. So what are you doing creeping around back here?”  

Castiel watches him in bemusement. He takes another sip of his with a matching grimace and turns back to the crowd. “I’ve come to the opinion that company galas suck. Especially ones that where my attendance in mandatory.”

“Aw, but you look so good in a tux,” Dean teases, tugging Castiel closer; they sway together to their own beat. “And it’s just one night a year, Cas.”

“Yes,” Castiel agrees, “and any other night I would stick it out, but I have better things I could be doing this particular night.” He pulls back to look at Dean, reaching up to trace a finger over Dean’s lips. “Like celebrating my fiancé’s birthday with him doing something we’d both actually enjoy.”

Dean shakes his head, smiling softly. “Cas, it’s _fine._ ”

“But it’s not, Dean.” Castiel gestures to his coworkers. “All of them are here because they work hard, putting in for overtime, practically living at the office – because they put work before their loved ones. And I do my own share, but I refuse to put this boring, going nowhere job before you.”

Decided, Castiel tips his flute straight up and finishes off the bubbly golden liquid with two chugs. He licks his lips and sets the flute on the buffet table beside them, doing the same with Dean’s, and then takes his fiancé’s hand. Dean grins, eyes sparkling.

“Come on.” Castiel gently pulls on Dean’s hand, and they start for the door. “They said I had to show up, but they didn’t say I had to stay. I want to get out of this stupid suit.”

Dean laughs, and they slip through the crowd of finely dressed people, waving off any attempt at conversation as they head towards the lobby. They grab their coats from the coat check area, and, bundled up tight, step out into lightly falling snow. The air nips at their cheeks as they dash across the parking lot to the Impala, hand in hand, and Castiel pulls Dean to the trunk once they reach her.

“I was serious when I said I want to change,” Castiel defends when Dean raises his eyebrows.

With a shrug and smirk, Dean opens it to pull out the duffel of extra clothes they always keep in it.

As quickly as he can in the freezing wind, Castiel slides off his coat and jacket and undoes his belt and fly, letting his tuxedo trousers fall down his legs; he trades it all for jeans, an ACDC shirt that used to belong to Dean, and a thick blue sweater, along with his overcoat. Dean sends him a wink as he shrugs out of his button down and pants, trading them for a Zeppelin tee, his red over shirt, and dark jeans, throwing on his leather jacket. They shiver slightly as the hurriedly pull on their more comfortable clothes, hidden in the dark of the half-moon night at the back of a hotel parking lot.

Once done, they shove their suits in the trunk and close it, and hurry to climb in the Impala’s front seats to get the heater going. The rattle of Legos accompanies the hum of the heater, and Castiel slides across the seat to press up against his fiancé, tucking his nose against Dean’s neck.

“Dude! Your nose is friggin’ _freezing!_ ” Dean laughs, flinching, but he wraps an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and pulls him close.

Castiel hums contentedly, and they sit for a moment while the Impala warms up. As soon as they don’t feel like stiff boards, Castiel leans away just enough to let Dean throw her into gear, and he makes his way out of the parking lot to the road while Castiel settles back against him.

“Where to, babe?” Dean asks once they reach a stoplight. The radio plays lowly and he hums along softly.

“I’m taking you to Benny’s. We haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Ooh, that means homemade gumbo!”

“If that’s what you want.” Castiel laughs at his fiancé’s enthusiasm. “I’m thinking about the burger special myself.”

“All that authentic Cajun and you go for the burgers.” Dean chuckles under his breath as he makes a right turn to head to Benny’s diner on 5th.

“You know the spices he uses don’t agree with me.”

“That they don’t,” he agrees. They’re quiet, listening to the music on the radio until the pull into the parking lot at Benny’s, and Dean cuts the engine. He smirks over at Castiel. “Last Fourth of July was pretty bad.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Castiel moans, burying his face against Dean’s arm. “That was _awful._ I spent the entire night in the bathroom!”

Dean cackles as they get out of the Impala. Castiel takes his arm, and they make their way to the diner, the soft fluorescent glow of _Benny’s Cajun Place_ lighting the falling snow with a faint blue hue. The atmosphere inside is lazy and relaxed; patrons murmur with their heads bent together, the game on the TVs kept at low volume. The aromas of spices mingle in the air, and Dean and Castiel inhale simultaneously as they step inside.

The big bear of a man behind the bar looks up at the tingle of the bell, and a wide grin spreads behind his beard. “Well, if it ain’t the birthday boy finally showin’ his ugly mug!”

Dean grins, pulling Castiel along as they head to the bar. “You know you’re jealous of my face, Benny! Can’t get enough of it!”

“Whatever you say, Chief.” Benny rolls his eyes, wiping down a glass and setting it aside. He turns his grin to Castiel. “Good to see ya, Cas. You finally drag him out from under his lady?”

Castiel shakes his head with a chuckle. “This one’s on me, I’m afraid. I had that gala to be at, and I completely lost track of time until about half an hour ago.”

“Ah, I get it, man. Duty calls.” Benny sets out silverware at the seats Dean and Castiel claim, leaning against the bar and looking at them from under his lashes. “How was it?”

Dean snorts. “There was champagne. Always with the champagne. Like we’re high society or somethin’. Seriously, can’t we get a nice beer at just one of those?”

Castiel pats his fiancé’s hand sympathetically. “I’m sure Benny has something to sate your palette.” He winks at Benny, and Benny lets out a short howl of a laugh.

“Comin’ right up, Cas. Y’all want your usual?” Benny straightens, turning to grab two beer glasses and fill them with the good stuff that’s on tap.

“I want the gumbo tonight,” Dean says, picking at his napkin. “Feelin’ like splurgin’ tonight, you know? It being my birthday and all.” He looks over at Castiel and winks.

Castiel shakes his head fondly, a smile on his lips. “I’ll have my usual, Benny, thank you.”

“I’ll have that right out, Chief.” And with that, Benny sets their beers in front of them, nods, and disappears into the kitchens.

The time until Benny returns with their food passes in quiet conversation about their days and absently watching the TVs. Castiel and Dean keep their heads close together, and Castiel steals a kiss every now and again, chest warm and light with alcohol and the feeling of Dean pressed close beside him, laughing and happy and absolutely carefree for a night. They don’t spend as much time together these days as he’d like, what with work and their respective jobs keeping them apart the majority of their weeks, and Castiel is glad he chose to ditch the gala in favor of spending time with his fiancé.

There’s nothing he loves more than his time spent with Dean.

Benny brings their food out balanced on his arms, and it’s just as good as it always is. Castiel loves how Benny cooks his burgers with the perfect amount of seasoning and sear, layering it with crisp, fresh lettuce and tomato and fried onions and bacon and gooey, melted cheese. If he could, Castiel would probably eat one of Benny’s burgers for every meal of every day. Dean steals his onion rings to dip in the gumbo, and they share their meals between smiles and laughs and playfully shove at each other, slightly tipsy.

Before Benny kicks them out, he brings out a to-go carrier and a bottle, a smirk on his lips.

“For the road,” he says with a wink. “Happy birthday, Chief.”

Dean takes the bottle as Castiel picks up the to-go carrier, squinting at the label. “Dom Perignon? You jackass.”

Benny just cackles, slapping a hand to Dean’s shoulder before moving away. “Enjoy the rest o’ your night with you man. Don’t forget to call sometime.”

Dean pouts, and Castiel takes the bottle of champagne as he climbs off his stool. He leans against his fiancé, pressing light kisses to the bolt of Dean’s jaw. “Come on, Dean,” he hums. “Let’s go home.”

“Mm, I think that’s a great idea,” Dean chuckles, joining Castiel in shrugging on his jacket. He digs his keys out of his pocket, and together he and Castiel walk arm in arm back into the cold. The snow is falling heavier, coating the ground in a thin layer of white fluff and crunches under their feet as they walk to the Impala.

A sense of lethargy permeates the air in the Impala as they head home, Castiel’s head resting on Dean’s shoulder. The champagne and to-go carrier sits on the seat between them. Pink Floyd plays on the radio, and Dean sings along, tapping out drum beats on the steering wheel. It’s peaceful, and Castiel feels himself drifting off with the rhythmic movement of the Impala.

He startles at a caress against his face, and Castiel blinks up at Dean smiling gently at him.

“We’re home,” Dean murmurs, pressing a kiss to Castiel’s forehead. Castiel nods sleepily, and they share another kiss before heading inside.

Dropping their coats and keys off in the foyer, Castiel takes the champagne and to-go carrier to the kitchen, Dean behind him. He sets the bottle on the counter, turning his attention to the carrier. The aroma wafting from it is warm and familiar, cinnamon and fruity. Castiel opens the carrier, and smiles. Dean leans over his shoulder to peer into, and a grin widens his face too.

“Look at that, he gave us dessert,” Dean chuckles. He goes to a drawer and pulls out two forks, then reaches up into the cabinets and pulls down two glasses, bringing them over. He shrugs when Castiel raises an eyebrow at the glasses. “He went to the trouble to give it to us, may as well.”

Castiel hums in agreement, going to find the cork remover. He pops the cork, which comes out easier than he’d expected, and examining the bottle closer, he snorts.

“What?” Dean asks; he’s got two pieces of apple-cinnamon pie cut out on plates, forks ready and waiting.

“It’s already half empty,” Castiel comments, pouring out a third of a glass for each of them. “I think Benny gave us a used bottle.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean laughs. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes as he takes the glass Castiel offers to him. “Can’t even give us a fresh bottle of rich people crap, what a cop-out. Well, cheers, I guess.”

Castiel lifts his glass to tap it against Dean’s, and they each take a sip together. Castiel licks his lips when he pulls his glass away, and Dean smacks his, and when they make eye contact, they grimace in unison.

“God, that’s even worse,” Dean gags theatrically, eyeing the champagne like it’s poison. Castiel hums in agreement, pinching his lips together.

“It’s a little flat,” Castiel muses, looking down into his glass disdainfully. Instead of the smooth, rich flavor, it tastes slightly watered down, like it has been sitting out for too long. Seeing as how it was already open, Castiel isn’t surprised. It's not even bubbly anymore.

“Pfft.” Dean moves back to the pie, holding out one of the pieces to Castiel. “Let’s wash it down with this perfection. I need to get that taste out of my mouth before I gag to death.”

Castiel smiles and shakes his head, taking his piece of pie, and he and Dean head to the living room to curl up on the couch together. They put on a record, something slow and jazzy, and enjoy the gooey apple-cinnamon filling and buttery, flaky crust in every bite. Their legs are tangled on top of the coffee table, feet rubbing together lazily. Despite their complaints, they finish off the glasses of Dom Perignon for lack of anything else to wash the rich dessert down with, bemoaning their lives with every swallow and falling into tipsy giggles.

Pie and champagne finally finished, snow falling outside, Castiel curls up against Dean, tucking his head under Dean’s chin and breathing in the smell of his cologne. “Happy birthday, Dean,” he murmurs sleepily, smiling when Dean nuzzles against his hair.

“Thanks, Cas. I really enjoyed this. Best birthday ever.”

“So far,” Castiel corrects, and Dean snorts.

“No more shitty television for you,” he teases, and Castiel huffs a soft laugh, taking Dean’s hand and curling their fingers together. His engagement ring glints in the soft light from the lamp in the room.

“I love you, Dean.”

Gentle fingers find their way under his chin, and Castiel lets Dean tilt his face up to catch him in a soft kiss, their lips chapped and tasting of flat champagne and apple pie.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [leviathncas](http://deanjimmy.co.vu)


End file.
